Radio romances (July-Dec 1945)

i&uGGesTMeoef" No belts to bind or pads to chafe— with Meds modern internal protection! "Next time", ask for Meds to assure the extra comfort of Meds' shorter length and the extra protection of Meds' "SAFETYWELL"! • Meds are made of real COTTON — soft and super-absorbent for extra comfort. • Meds alone have the "SAFETY-WELL"— designed for your extra protection. • Med's easy-to-use APPLICATORS are dainty, efficient, and disposable. Meds' exclusive "SAFETY-WELL" absorbs so much more, so much faster! Extra protection for you! Meds' fine soft COTTON can absorb up to three times its own weight in moisture! The scientifically-shaped insorber expands gently and comfortably— adapting itself to individual requirements. H R 62 because of these dainty, carefully designed applicators, Meds insorbers are easy-to-use Part of Me {Continued from page 47) not really listening, its faint, busy hum, a sound compounded of sawrasp and hammer-stroke and the hiss of planes and the shuffle of boys' feet. Suddenly the familiar sound was gone; there was a silence in which I could feel shock, and then an excited babble of voices. In a few seconds, I was at the door of the room. But there I stopped. Mr. Aiken, the manual training teacher, was jealous of his rights; he would not care to have another teacher rushing into his domain. Besides — why was I so sure something serious had happened? I was nervous and edgy, that was all. I forced myself to return to my desk, but my whole body seemed to be listening — listening to the complete silence that had followed the first excited burst of talk. Then, without warning, the door opened and Mr. Aiken and Bob came in. Bob's face was graywhite; he looked as though he would faint. He held his right hand clasped in his left. "Miss Wilson," Mr. Aiken said, "Bob's hurt his hand. I've looked at it, and I think — " He hesitated. "I think he'd better be sent home." "Oh," I said. "Oh — yes, of course. I'll take him." There was no surprise in me. As soon as I heard the change in the timbre.of the sound from downstairs, I had known it would be Bob. Mr. Aiken nodded. "You'd better take my car. And I'll tell Miss Colton." Miss Colton was the principal. "I'm all right," Bob said. "I can go home by myself." But even as he spoke he swayed, and sat down abruptly on the nearest desk. "Here's the key." Mr. Aiken — spare, middle-aged, his mouth grim — stood near the door. In a low voice, he added, "You'd better see that a doctor looks at that hand. I think one of the fingers is broken. He smashed it with a hammer. And — " He gave me a meaningful glance, as if he wanted to tell me more. There was no time, though; not now. I put my arm around Bob, helped him up and led him outside to Mr. Aiken's car. My own hand was trembling so much I could hardly insert the ignition key in the lock. A finger broken. A finger on the right hand. Broken. Myra. . . . BUT she behaved well. Her eyes widened in agony when we came in and I explained that Bob had hurt himself with a hammer, and one hand went to her breast, pressing there as if to stifle pain — that was all. No hysterics, no reproaches. She made Bob lie down, and telephoned the doctor, and then she said, "Thank you for bringing him home, Fran. I can take care of him now, until the doctor comes." It was dismissal — but in any event, I had to get back to the school; the boys and girls would be coming up from shop and domestic science, and I would be needed. More than that — Mr. Aiken was there, and he had something he must tell me. He came in after the class had gone, and he told me. "That boy," he said. "I happened to glance at him just as he brought the hammer down on his fingers. And Miss Wilson — he did it on purpose. I'd swear to that." A hard knot of tension that had been inside me for the past hour relaxed. Knowing, being sure, was less painful, somehow. I took a deep breath. _1